


All There Is To It

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bubble Bath, Fluff and Smut, Flying Carpet, Folk Music, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission to retrieve a magical amulet hasn't gone quite according to plan. Saboo wishes he'd been assigned a different field partner...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which we find out why Naboo is short and why Dennis the Head Shaman is bald

‘Oh, shit.’ Saboo comes to an abrupt halt.

‘What is it _now_?’ 

Saboo seethes inwardly at the barbed tone of that ‘now’. Yes, they’ve had a bad day. But no, it hasn’t all been his fault. Except perhaps for accepting this job in the first place.

It all sounded rather simple the way the Head Shaman put it: ‘you just go in there, help the Bearer to retrieve the stolen Amulet, and get back to wherever you parked the carpet…’

Yeah, right. The Amulet is a vitally important shamanic artefact, and the fee was good, with a reward from the King promised on the top of it; but Dennis really should have mentioned that the thief was a mad art collector who lived in a fortress in the middle of nowhere, that said fortress was extremely well guarded and under a magical no-fly zone, and that the recovery mission would need to be completed during the hours of daylight to have any chance of success.

Oh, and he really should have said who the Bearer was, too. Or Saboo really should have asked, or simply stuck to his guns about doing fieldwork alone. Because of all the people to be trapped in the wilderness with, after a dangerous and rather exhausting afternoon…

Naboo peers vaguely at the sheet of water blocking their path. ‘Don’t see what you’re all that bothered about. Okay, my shaman-senses have navigated us a bit far to the norf, but at least we’re out of the forest now, an’ we can just go round the lake. Which way d’you reckon’s shortest?’

‘Shorter,’ Saboo grits through clenched teeth.

‘Tha’s what I said. We’re almost out of the zone, you can see the pointy rock where we left the carpet, look.’ He points across the lake.

The rock is a couple of miles away, no more; but Saboo’s memorised the map and knows that although the lake is narrow, it’s long, cutting through the low hills like a sword-blade. Whichever way they choose to go around it, darkness will have fallen long before they get anywhere near safety.

‘Naboo, you plum, we don’t have time. Those – _things_ – will be on our tracks as soon as the suns have set. There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to swim across.’

He strips briskly down to his underwear and packs his clothes into the rucksac (wondering bitterly why he has been the one carrying it all day; surely an amulet can’t be _that_ heavy).

‘Good job this has a waterproof liner. At least we’ll have dry clothes on the other side… Oh, come on, get those robes off, will you? There’s no time to lose.’

Naboo shakes his head. Saboo loses his temper.

‘Now listen, you total titbox, I’ve about had it to here with this mission. We wouldn’t even be here if you’d taken better care of the Amulet in the first place and not left it in your Shamansbury’s trolley for any Tom, Dick or Harry to steal.’

‘It wasn't Tom, Dick or Harry. He’s called Stewart,’ Naboo protests.

‘I don’t give a toss what he’s called. You may have trapped him for all time in his own display cabinet, but we’re still in danger, can’t you get that into your head? We’ve already avoided at least two unpleasant deaths each today.’ He glares at Naboo, somehow resisting the impulse to throttle him and make the third the charm.

The little shaman still has not moved. ‘You’ll have to leave me behind.’

‘What are you talking about? You can’t be left behind. You’re the Bearer of the Amulet.’

Naboo holds out the glittering golden pendant, still on its chain about his neck. ‘Not if you take it willin’ly.’

‘Well, I don’t. I’m not falling for that. It’s _your_ responsibility, laid on you by the King himself… Come on, for fuck’s sake, do you want to be torn to shreds by the Guardians? You saw that – that body they’d left in the moat.’

There is a terrible fear in Naboo’s dark eyes. He looks more scared than Dennis faced with a line of coke. ‘I can’t swim,’ he whispers.

Saboo sighs. ‘You accepted a mission to retrieve your Amulet from a fortress in the Xooberon Lake District, a _moated_ fortress mark you, and you can’t swim.’

‘Yeah, that’s about it.’

‘Well, I’m not leaving you, I’d never hear the last of it from Dennis. Now **strip**.’

Saboo’s command-voice has always been a good one. Naboo automatically pulls his robes off over his head, kicks off his curly trainers, and hands over his turban; Saboo stuffs them all in the bag. ‘And the rest.’

Naboo hesitates, head bowed, hands at the waistband of his flimsy silk trousers.

‘Listen, any clothing’s just going to drag you down. Get ’em off.’

Naboo starts shivering, though the air’s not cold; two of the three suns are still in the sky and there’s an hour or so yet before the real night-chill kicks in.

Saboo’s impatience almost chokes him. ‘This is no time to come over all shy. If what Dennis told me is true, you don’t have anything to be shy about, anyway.’ In exasperation, he strips off his own underpants. ‘Look, we’re all square. Happy now?’

Naboo looks up and then hastily away; pushes the trousers down, and steps out of them.

He’s so thin, and what Dennis said was true, the dark hair on his body just stops and then there's –

Saboo concentrates hard on the job in hand. ‘I think the bag will float, if we seal it. Put the Amulet in there, and you carry it, then you’re still the Bearer, right?’

Naboo gives a small nod. He’s biting his lip; he looks as though he might cry. Saboo hopes fervently that it won’t come to that. He wouldn’t know what to do; he might even cry himself…

He takes a deep breath. ‘Right. Put your left arm through the straps and let me put the belt on.’

He fastens the clips, tightens the strap around Naboo’s narrow waist, trying not to look, trying not to touch that soft white skin…

‘You’ve left my trousers out,’ a small voice says.

‘I know.’ Saboo picks them up and knots the legs together. ‘We’re going to use them as a tow-rope. You hold this end and don’t let go. I hold the other, and pull you across. Keep one thought in that drug-addled mess you call a brain: hold on. And if there’s room for another thought in there, trust me. OK? Hold on, and trust me. That’s all there is to it.’

He wishes he felt as certain as he sounds.

The water’s cold on his bare feet. Naboo hesitates on the bank, trembling, clutching the bag to his chest.

It’s obvious he’s never going to get started on his own. Saboo picks him up bodily and carries him into the lake.

He weighs barely anything; the rucksac’s probably heavier. Saboo can feel him trembling, trying to pull himself together. His eyes are tight shut and his heart’s hammering against his ribs.

‘I’m going to put you down now.’ Saboo speaks as calmly and clearly as he can, setting aside his anger for the time being. There’ll be plenty of chances to despise Naboo for this later, but right now he could panic and lose it at any moment, and they can’t afford that. ‘It’ll be cold, and you’ll be out of your depth, it’ll be a shock, but don’t forget to breathe.’

He lowers the small body into the lake, despite Naboo’s pathetic cries of protest; at the first touch of the water the little alien thrashes desperately, clinging to Saboo, gasping and heaving for breath.

One might almost feel sorry for him.

‘Stop it, stop moving, lie on your back and let the water hold you up. Breathe in, the more air in your lungs the better you’ll float.’

‘I can’t, I can’t do it, help me, don’t leave me, don’t let me go down…’

‘I’m not going to leave you. Just **stop**. If you stop trying to swim, then you’ll float. Two thoughts, Naboo, just two thoughts, what were they?’

‘H – hold on, and trust you…’

‘Right. If there’s any swimming to be done, I’ll do it. Now let’s get going.’

He wades in deeper, towing the whimpering Naboo behind him; launches himself into the water and sets off with an awkward, one-armed side-stroke. The improvised bag-float helps a lot, but even so it’s hard work. He’s grateful Naboo isn’t six foot like Dennis.

About half way, he stops to tread water and catch his breath.

Naboo gasps, and flounders. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, little one. Just resting a moment. How are you doing back there?’

Naboo stills his panicked movements and floats, staring up at the darkening sky. ‘Fine,’ he says resolutely.

‘Bloody liar.’

‘Takes one to know one,’ Naboo lisps.

‘That’s the spirit.’ Saboo takes a deep breath and sets off again, his heart pounding in his throat, his feet numb, his left arm aching from gripping the towrope.

The second half of the lake is much colder and wider than the first. But eventually the shore draws nearer.

‘Can’t take much more,’ a weak voice says behind him. ‘’M havin’ a panic attack…’

‘We’re almost there. Hold it together.’ Saboo tests the depth of the water, cursing as a sharp stone catches his foot. A couple more strokes, and he can stand up. Naboo is whining now, his eyes rolled back in his head, his breathing shallow. Saboo picks him up again and carries him the rest of the way.

‘There. Dry land. Well done, we made it. Told you so.’ Saboo’s teeth are chattering.

Naboo makes no response. Saboo lowers him onto the turf above the shoreline and awkwardly undoes the rucksac belt, then prises Naboo’s rigid arm out of the straps.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly, and Naboo lets out a sudden sob and clings to him, shaking all over, ice-cold and terrified.

This really ought to be so embarrassing.

Once the worst of the attack seems to have passed, and a little warmth is returning to their chilled bodies, Saboo reluctantly lets go and reaches for the bag to find their dry clothes.

‘Here you go.’ He helps Naboo into his robes; jams the turban back onto his head; fastens his laces. Then he scrambles hastily into his own shirt and trousers, welcoming their scanty comfort. The air’s getting chilly now. He puts his own jacket around Naboo’s shoulders. The little one needs it more.

‘W – won’t you be cold?’

‘I’ve been swimming. Swimming for two. I’ll be fine.’ Saboo puts the Amulet chain over Naboo’s head, and as an afterthought he pulls out his feather boa from the bottom of the bag and wraps it in fluffy layers around Naboo’s slender neck, tucking the ends into the front of the jacket. ‘Now we need to get moving. **Walk**.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Can too.’ Saboo pulls his companion to his feet. ‘One foot in front of the other, and don’t stop.’

They set off across the rough grassland, both a little unsteady. Saboo’s legs feel like jelly, and his arm aches fiercely.

After a little while he’s warmer and moving more freely. Naboo’s breathing is easier and he’s not tripping over his curly trainers so much. Honestly, you’d think a mighty shaman would have some more practical footwear for doing outdoor fieldwork…

‘Sorry.’ A small voice breaks in on Saboo’s thoughts. ‘I owe you one, big-time… an’ I feel such a twat.’

He’s obviously expecting Saboo to despise him for his weakness, and Saboo was expecting it too, even looking forward to it; but somehow the thought of that deferred scorn has lost its savour. ‘It’s all right,’ Saboo says gruffly. ‘We made it, and I don’t… I wouldn’t mock you. Wouldn’t wish that sort of fear on my worst enemy.’

Naboo is quiet for a few paces, then asks with polite interest: ‘D’you have a worst enemy?’

‘I do. But it’s not you.’ He doesn’t want to talk about that, although maybe some sort of conversation would help make the journey seem shorter. The question he knows he shouldn’t ask is out of his mouth before he can bite it back. ‘Why are you so scared of swimming?’

‘Long story.’

‘We’ve got half an hour or so,’ Saboo says, in what he hopes is an encouraging tone.

Naboo takes a deep breath. ‘I had a worst enemy. Another kid in the foundlings’ home.’

‘Home?’

‘Yeah, I was abandoned as a baby, I guess I was an anomaly, a throwback in an un-magical family, they put me out. It happens. Not everybody’s got twenty generations of shamen in the family, like Dennis or Diane. Didn’t fit in…’

‘Is that why you’re stubborn and self-reliant?’

‘No, it’s why I live in exile, have several drug habits an’ keep a fuckin’ huge gorilla for a familiar.’ Naboo sighs, and walks a little closer to Saboo’s side. ‘I was bullied all the time, in the home an’ at school, thankfully my magic was powerful or I wouldn’t have made it.’

‘Can’t have made it any easier being so small.’

‘They didn’t do it because I was small. They did it because I had a speech impediment an’ a stupid name.’

‘Naboo’s not particularly stupid.’

‘No, but Randolph Roppity-Poppity… I ask you, who calls their kid _that_? Someone who doesn’t intend to keep him, maybe.’

He stumbles over a loose stone; Saboo puts out a hand to steady him.

‘Spent years tellin’ people: I’m not Randolph, I’m Naboo, that’s who. Changed my name as soon as I legally could, an’ applied for a scholarship to the Shaman Academy.’

‘Is that where you met Dennis?’

‘Yeah, he was my swordplay tutor. He was a bit useless, but at least he took an interest in me.’

‘And what happened to your worst enemy?’

‘He got an Academy place too, an’ although I didn’t have to live under the same roof any more, by that time he’d found out I was thirdsex an’ he couldn’t handle it, never missed a chance to call me weirdo and pervert an’ get me beaten up. He tried everythin’ to make me give up, or get me thrown out.’

‘What was his name?’

‘I can’t say it.’

‘I suppose it would bring it all back.’

Naboo looks up with mild surprise. ‘No, I just can’t say it. He was from some place out in the Provinces where the local dialect’s all sibilants… I couldn’t pronounce it if I tried.’

‘Fair enough. Go on.’

‘When I’d been at the Academy four years, they told me I was ready to take the Tests. Me, but not him, an’ he was boiling mad. He told me he’d cursed me with a curse that would take away one of my abilities, so I’d be bound to fail.’

‘What did it do?’

Naboo shakes his head. ‘He didn’t tell me. I did three solid days of checkin’ my skills. Potions, levitation, carpet piloting, edged weapons, incantations, rune translation, the lot. Everythin’ worked fine, so I thought the curse’d miscarried an’ he was bein’ a ballbag. Told him so to his face. He just grinned evilly and said I’d still fail.’

‘But you did become a shaman.’

‘No thanks to him. All the Tests went fine, there was just the Ordeal to go… an’ Dennis was named as my Examiner, so I reckoned I was home an’ dry. But I wasn’t.’

He falls silent, looking up the grassy slope ahead of them.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Saboo says. ‘In fact, you shouldn’t.’

It is written that no shaman should speak of his Ordeal: it is between him and his Examiner.

‘I’m gonna tell you though, I want you to understand. Dennis cast the Examiner’s Runes, and they prescribed Ordeal by Water. So he took me on a nice little stroll to the ornamental fishpond in the old Head Shaman’s private gardens, and tripped me up so that I’d fall in.’

‘Doesn’t sound that bad. It’s not even a very big pond. Hardly big enough to swim in.’

‘It’s a very _deep_ pond.’ Naboo shivers. ‘An’ as soon as I hit the water, thrashin’ around among all those fuckin’ huge fish, I discovered that the ability I’d lost wasn’t a magical one at all. It was swimming.’

‘You could have just climbed out. Summoned a carpet, or a rope…’

‘The sides are bare mud, slippery an’ vertical. I couldn’t hold on. I panicked. My summonin’ spells didn’t work – Dennis told me later that the gardens are protected, to stop people bringin’ in unauthorised items – an’ the more I tried, the less energy I had. Dennis just stood there lookin’ helpless. He wasn’t allowed to say anythin’, or help me.’

‘Couldn’t you transform?’

‘Don’t you think I tried? I tried everything I could think of. But all I could think of, was things that could swim… a fish, a duck, an otter… an’ they all just sank. I couldn’t swim no matter what form I was in. The surface an’ the sunlight were getting’ further and further away, an’ I was gettin’ weaker an’ weaker. I’ve never been so scared.’

He stops at the top of the hill, panting for breath.

‘Look, there’s the track. Not far now,’ Saboo says quietly, and realises he’s got his arm around Naboo’s shoulders, holding him.

Naboo doesn’t seem to have heard, or noticed. ‘I went right down to the bottom, where it was cold and pitch black and full of slimy things writhin’ around. I was choking, drowning, I had hardly any energy left, an’ less magic… all I could do was turn into a worm, a miserable little worm, an’ crawl through the mud hoping nothing would notice me an’ eat me. I had gills, I could breathe just about, but all that water was pressin’ down above me, I could feel it, an’ for ages I thought I was crawlin’ in a circle… was just about to give up when I started goin’ uphill, an’ it got steeper an’ steeper an’ thankfully when I got to where I could see the light, there were no fish – Dennis was chuckin’ bread in at the other end an’ they’d all gone after it – I crawled up the mud an’ onto the path an’ Dennis looked round an’ saw me an’ changed me back…’

‘Dennis saved your life.’

‘He did. But don’t ever tell anyone. He’s good at bendin’ the rules, ’s probably how come he got to be head shaman... He declared me qualified an’ gave me gifts. A really neat radio alarm clock, still got that, an’ an extra magical ability to make up for the one I’d lost. He couldn’t make me able to swim, but I can send my consciousness into another being anywhere in the universe.’

‘Cool.’

‘Didn’t use it much, to be honest, but it saved my life when I was about to be executed for losin’ that shaman juice. Dennis bent the rules again an’ reminded me what he’d given me. He’s always looked out for me. That was a bad time. But that Ordeal…’

‘Stop thinking about it. You survived.’ Saboo holds on a little tighter.

‘Yeah, but not unchanged. I’d used up such a lot of energy, there wasn’t enough left to get me back at full size. ’S why I’m a short-arse. I’d still be six foot if it weren’t for that. Cheers.’ He leans on Saboo for a brief moment, then pulls himself resolutely upright.

‘We’re all scarred by our Ordeals,’ Saboo says quietly, as they start walking again, down the hill.

‘I know. Dennis’s was by Fire. Dunno exactly what happened to him, but that’s why he’s bald and his eyes are all milky. He sees mostly by magic…’

‘Mine was by Air. My Examiner pushed me off the South Cliffs, with no warning.’

‘Did you levitate?’

‘No, I transformed into a bird. Flew back up on the updraft and crapped on the bastard’s head, I was so angry. He didn’t fail me for it though. Said I’d shown initiative and humour. But I’ve been angry ever since.’

‘Was it a raven?’

Saboo looks at his companion in surprise. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Nobody, I just thought… you know how ravens are, dark, handsome, clever… bad-tempered an’ a bit up themselves… an’ solitary.’ Naboo grins. ‘You should have one as a familiar. It’d be perfect for you.’

‘Never had a familiar.’ Saboo doesn’t say that he’s always dreamed of it; or that he’s never been called handsome to his face; or that ravens mate for life…

‘Why not?’

‘Could never find a creature willing to make the bond.’

‘Well, you don’t exactly make it easy. You keep telling people you don’t like them.’

‘I don’t. I don’t like many people. They don’t like me, either.’

Naboo giggles. ‘Tony Harrison does.’

‘Yes, well, I don’t want to go there… and it’s not exactly mutual.’ Saboo sighs.

They reach the track that runs along the valley, and turn onto it, towards the faint shimmer in the sky that marks the point at which they’ll be able to fly to freedom.

‘You don’t like yourself much, do you?’

Saboo trips over a rock in the path, and rights himself with a curse. ‘Look, you little plum, will you stop asking damned insightful and overly personal questions that for some reason I feel compelled to answer? No. No, I don’t. I’m fucked up and angry and I prefer to work alone.’

‘And you’re lonely.’

‘Yes, well, that kind of goes with the territory, doesn’t it? Ah, look, there’s the rock where we left the carpet. Just in time to save me from further embarrassment. Come on, only a few minutes more.’

The last rays of the sun vanish behind the hills; at the same moment something gives a terrible, tearing howl, echoing off the rocks all around them.

‘The Guardians,’ Naboo whispers.

Another howl, closer this time.

‘They’ve crossed the lake. **Run**.’ Saboo grabs Naboo’s hand and they stumble down the stony track, breaking through the magical barrier with a faint crackle like static electricity. Saboo fumbles in his trouser pocket for the remote carpet ignition; frantically presses the button. ‘Come on, come on…’

‘I’m doing my best,’ Naboo says indignantly.

‘I meant the carpet, you prune.’

A sleek dark shape appears over the crest of the hill to their right, moving with unearthly speed to cut off their escape.

‘Come on, you bastard…’ The carpet still isn’t responding.

Naboo’s breath is sobbing in his throat. He trips, dragging at Saboo’s arm. ‘I’m slowing you down, leave me.’

‘Shut it, we don’t need that crap again. Been there, chosen not to do that. We leave together or not at all… Ah, here it comes. Thank fuck.’

The carpet glides towards them, passing right in front of the Guardian, which slashes at it with a taloned paw, tearing a section out of the fringe.

‘That’s coming off Dennis’s insurance,’ Saboo mutters.

‘It’s not going to get here,’ Naboo whimpers. There are pounding footsteps on the gravel behind them, the sound of harsh panting breath.

‘Jump!’ Saboo flings Naboo onto the carpet, hurls himself flat behind him, and steers a wobbly course upwards and away.

There is a fierce snarl, and something snags their flight for a moment before tearing free; a heavy body thuds to the ground.

‘You OK?’ Naboo shouts, above the whistle of the wind.

‘More or less.’ Saboo grits his teeth. A fiery pain is spreading from his ankle, all the way up his left side.

‘Sounds like less rather than more.’ As the carpet levels and steadies, Naboo turns to face him. ‘What’s wrong?’

Saboo tries to speak casually. ‘I’ve been bitten. Damn things have venomous fangs.’

‘Which means what exactly?’ Naboo’s brows crease in a frown.

Evidently there’s no point trying to fool him. ‘Which means I’ve got about ten minutes before my heart stops.’

‘ _No_.’ Naboo’s face in the moonlight is deathly pale.

Saboo’s heart is already fluttering erratically. He reaches out a hand to the immobile Naboo. ‘Can you do anything to help?’

‘Well, I guess I can hold your hand…’

‘I meant, can you do anything practical?’

The little shaman shakes his head sadly. ‘Not really. I’m not much good with poisons.’ He wipes his nose on his sleeve. Then he brightens. ‘Hang on though, I’m bein’ a numpty here aren’t I, we’ve got this.’

He pulls out the Amulet on its chain.

The carpet swerves and bucks; Saboo is losing control of it.

‘Don’t crash within the next thirty seconds, an’ we might have a chance.’ Naboo leans over to look at the damage. ‘Shit, that looks horrible, but I’ll try… it’s gonna hurt like buggery though. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault…’

A drop of something cold falls onto the wound, and Saboo’s language turns the air blue. Even the Moon looks shocked.

The cold seeps into the heart of the pain, at first unbearable, then little by little putting out the fire, leaving a dull glow in its wake.

‘How’re you feelin’ now?’

‘Better,’ Saboo says thickly. ‘Can you… can you do the other thing as well? The not-practical one?’

‘Are you high?’ Naboo asks, with mock-severity.

‘You tell me. You’re the expert.’

Naboo puts a hand on Saboo’s forehead; looks deep into his eyes. ‘Yeah, you are. You’ve got some potent toxins swillin’ round in your system, it’ll take a while for your head to clear.’

The carpet heaves again. ‘You’ll have to fly,’ Saboo says, grabbing Naboo’s hand, ‘fly us to the castle, fly me to the moon, fly south for the winter, fly…’

‘OK, I’ll fly. You sleep.’

‘Is it… are we going to be alright now?’

‘Course we are.’ Naboo squeezes Saboo’s hand and smiles, a rare and beautiful smile. ‘Hold on, and trust me. Like you said, that’s all there is to it.’


	2. In which we find out that the King's memory for names is as bad as ever, and that Saboo is more human than he lets on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two shamen have made it safely back to the King's castle, only to find that their ordeal is by no means over. There are lentils AND chickpeas on the royal banquet menu, for a start...

Naboo heaves a sigh of relief as his weatherworking spell makes the mist over the mountains swirl and part, revealing the battlements of the King’s Castle perched on its crag far below.

Saboo stirs and mutters: ‘Are we there yet?’

‘Just about. Let go of me, ya ballbag, I need both hands to land a carpet this size.’

Concentrating hard – the damage to its fringe makes the carpet horribly unstable at low speed – Naboo manages to come down on the courtyard’s spotless flagstones with only a couple of bumps. Wouldn’t have passed his shamanic driving test with that one, but then when he took his test he hadn’t been doing dangerous fieldwork all day.

There’s no time to say anything else to Saboo before people come running from all sides, waving their arms and shouting in what Naboo presumes is a traditional greeting ritual. He stays sitting on the parked carpet, smiling politely. He doesn’t want to offend against protocol, and anyway he’s pretty sure if he stands up too quickly he’ll just fall over again.

The shouting dies down, and there’s an awkward silence.

It’s almost a relief when the crowd parts and the King strides out, his robes billowing and his white beard gleaming in the torchlight. ‘Bamboo, my old friend,’ he intones sonorously, spreading his arms wide, ‘you have returned.’

Naboo gets cautiously to his feet. The ground is swaying a bit and the walls don’t seem to be quite fixed in place either. ‘Er…Yeah.’ What else is he supposed to say? Oh. ‘Sire.’

‘And did you retrieve the Amulet?’

‘Yeah, Sire.’ Naboo’s voice sounds very small in his own ears.

‘Splendid.’ Beaming with delight, the King takes Naboo’s hand and presents him to the crowd, turning him this way and that so they can all murmur their appreciation. ‘The Amulet is restored to us! We shall feast on lentils tonight,’ he declares. ‘And chickpeas too. Possibly haricot beans as well, if they are ready in time. The Minstrels are already rehearsing the greatest hits of Steeleye Span. It will be a great celebration.’

Saboo groans. Naboo is tempted to do the same.

The King peers with mild concern at the crumpled figure on the carpet. ‘What is wrong with your companion?’

‘Oh, he’s… a bit tired. Sire. It’s been a long day, y’know?’ Naboo digs Saboo in the ribs and bends over to speak into his ear. ‘Wake up, the King’s here.’

Saboo sits up stiffly and rubs his eyes. ‘Greetings, my liege.’

‘And the same to you, Bassoon.’

‘Saboo.’

‘Yes, whatever.’ The King is still grinning inanely.

A dark figure rushes into the courtyard, pushing through the assembled throng. ‘I came as soon as I could, my liege.’

‘Balloon?’ the King says, letting go of Naboo’s hand and turning to the newcomer. ‘So many names to remember, it’s all a bit confusing really.’

‘Banoo,’ the shaman says. He kneels, bows his head, and speaks with great earnestness. ‘Command me, Sire.’

‘Erm, to do what?’ the King asks vaguely.

‘To do your bidding, Sire. I put myself at your service. The Amulet is lost. I, Banoo, shall find it though I perish in the attempt.’

Saboo struggles to his feet, leaning on Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I hate to break it to you, you tit, but we’ve already found it and not perished.’

Banoo frowns. ‘Oh. I see. You do look a bit peaky, though.’

He’s not wrong there. Saboo is sweating, and Naboo can feel him swaying on his feet. At least, somebody is swaying on his feet. Either that, or the ground really is moving… He concentrates hard on staying upright.

‘Let the feast begin!’ the King proclaims.

Nightmare.

‘Erm, your Maj, could we perhaps freshen up first?’ Naboo asks.

‘Certainly, Buffoon, certainly… you recall where your guest chambers are?’

‘Fink so, yeah. Sire.’

‘Then I shall see you in the great hall in an hour.’ A worried-looking fat bloke in a chef’s hat whispers something in the King’s ear. ‘Ah. It seems the haricot beans are still as hard as… very hard things. Two hours, then.’

‘OK, laters.’

‘As you say in your curious idiom, laters.’ The King strides away, with Banoo trailing in his wake; the crowd begins to disperse.

Naboo picks up the bag and hails the footman who has come to roll up the carpet. ‘Couldn’t get this repaired for us, could ya? Cheers. Send the bill to the Head Shaman’s office.’ Naboo turns back to Saboo. ‘Looks like we need to get you a bit more repaired as well.’

The corridors seem endless and Naboo’s not quite sure of his way; it’s a relief when they finally come out on a spiral staircase that looks familiar.

‘I have a horrible feeling I’m going to be sick,’ Saboo mutters, as they start to climb.

He’s limping painfully on his injured ankle, and progress is slow. By the time they’ve got to the top of the staircase, which thankfully is the right one, Naboo can see that the horrible feeling has become a horrible certainty; Saboo’s forehead is clammy and his mouth is set in a tight line.

Naboo pushes open the arched door of Saboo’s chamber, with its hinges in the shape of snarling dragons. Saboo stumbles through and straight into the palatial marble bathroom.

‘Oh, gods,’ he groans, as Naboo holds his head over the hand-gilded porcelain toilet bowl, ‘it’s green, it’s… fucking… _green_ …’

‘That’s a good sign.’ Naboo does his best to sound calm and professional. ‘It’s just the poison comin’ out of your system.’

‘Along with just about everything else… oh… go away. I don’t need anyone… see me like this…’

‘I’m not leavin’ you in this state,’ Naboo says firmly.

‘Stubborn little sod…’ Saboo chokes, and heaves again. ‘Fucking hell, this is worse than one of Kirk’s cocktail evenings.’

Naboo pats him on the back. ‘Better out than in.’

‘Don’t say that, you sound like my mother.’

‘I haven’t got a mother.’ Not that he knows of, anyway; his daft name is all he’s got of her. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Trust me, you wouldn’t want mine.’ Saboo leans his forehead against the rim of the bowl, utterly exhausted.

‘Is that it?’

‘For now, yes. Can you… can you get me some water? Please?’

Naboo brings him water and a cloth, cleans him up, and helps him back to the bedroom to sit on the fourposter, head in hands.

He looks better, but still not good.

‘What’s your physiology?’ Naboo asks.

‘Ill.’

‘Not helpful. I meant, what –’

‘Human.’

Well, that’s a surprise. ‘Thought this was your home planet.’

Saboo sighs wearily. ‘Born here. Father came from Earth on an Academy scholarship under the old Diversity Programme, met mother, never left. His genes seem to have dominated. Doctors had endless trouble when I was little. I was ill a lot.’

Naboo tries to imagine that small boy. Human, fragile and in need of help. Actually, it’s not that hard…

‘Why d’you want to know?’ Saboo asks.

‘Might be able to help a bit. You got a first aid kit in that bag?’

‘Left side pocket.’

Naboo rummages in the rucksac. ‘Here you go, take two of these.’

‘You plum. Didn’t you do the interspecies first-aid course? Salt makes humans puke.’

‘Oh. OK, try these glucose tablets then. They’ll help get the toxins out of your bloodstream.’

Saboo chews reluctantly, and pulls a face. ‘These had better work. They’re disgusting. I hate sweet stuff.’

‘Sorry.’ Naboo fetches another glass of water and makes Saboo drink it. ‘Any better?’

‘Not really, no.’ Saboo fidgets uncomfortably. ‘And now I need…’ He gets unsteadily to his feet again.

‘That’ll probably be green too,’ Naboo tells him.

The bathroom door slams firmly.

Naboo busies himself rustling about in the contents of the first-aid kit until the door opens again.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ Saboo flops on the bed, shivering.

Naboo grins at him. ‘Better learn to get used to it.’

‘What on earth makes you think I’m ever going on a field trip with you again?’

‘My shaman-senses foretell it,’ Naboo intones in his best mystical voice. ‘Plus you held my hand for the whole of a four-hour carpet flight… are you cold, by the way?’

‘Sodding frozen. I haven’t been warm since we got in that blasted lake.’

‘You’ve got time for a hot bath before we have to put in an appearance.’

‘Do we have to? I’m not sure I can face lentil surprise in my current state of health.’

‘Yeah, we do have to. I’m not goin’ down there on my own, I’m gonna need you to keel over an’ create an excuse for us to leave early. You wouldn’t condemn me to all-night folk music, would you?’

‘I might, if you don’t stop wittering on. Although you did just say two words that made a lot of sense.’

‘Which two?’

‘ _Hot_ and _bath_.’

‘Come on, then.’ Naboo hauls Saboo to his feet again. ‘I… I don’t suppose yours has a shower, does it? Mine doesn’t.’

‘Nope. Just a huge bathtub – it’s OK, I can manage, thanks – a massive rolltop one with feet… Oh.’ Saboo leans on the frame of the bathroom door and looks at Naboo with a keen eye. ‘Yours is the same, and it’s too big, yes?’

Naboo looks at the floor, his cheeks suddenly aflame. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he mumbles, turning away. ‘I… I wasn’t trying it on… don’t want you to think… but since you mention it… I mean, you have already seen… or, or we could take turns, I just… there’s usually Bollo, you see, an’ he sits outside the door just in case, an’ I never actually need him, it’s more… havin’ someone there…’

The floor is polished marble, with wavy stripes of red and white. Naboo wishes it would open up, and swallow him. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll just go.’

‘It’s up to you. But for what it’s worth… I’d rather you didn’t.’

Naboo looks up in surprise.

‘I know, that’s not what I expected me to say either, but…’ Saboo gives a cautious, slightly embarrassed smile. ‘I’m still not very steady on my feet. And as you say, it’s… having someone there.’

‘Alright then.’ Naboo shrugs, and manages a tentative smile in return. ‘I haven’t got much on.’

He follows the red-and-white stripes through the bathroom door.


	3. In which we find out what mighty shamen do when the catering's rubbish, and who Saboo's worst enemy is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is time for a bath before dinner. And time for a drink and a cosy chat in front of the fire afterwards. (Dinner itself, though, is best forgotten...)

‘Bubbles,’ Saboo says decisively, as the steaming hot water thunders from its gilt brass spout and into the oversized, claw-footed bathtub. ‘We need bubbles.’ 

‘How about this?’ Naboo picks out a pink-and-gold bottle from the extensive selection in the cabinet beside the bath. ‘Ylang-ylang and patchouli.’

‘Patchouli? Not on your life.’

Naboo raises his eyebrows in one of his many vaguely puzzled expressions. ‘What you got against patchouli?’

‘Way too girly. And it clings for weeks. I am not having Harrison sniffing and making… comments… while I make my report to the Board. What else is in there?’

‘Umm, vanilla and raspberry?’

‘I’m not going home smelling like your poncey fruit-flavoured flatmate, either.’

Naboo sighs, and picks up another bottle. ‘Triple chocolate?’ he says hopefully.

‘That’s just wrong.’

‘Dragon bollocks?’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘Nope.’ Naboo passes over a green, leathery-textured flask.

Saboo takes a cautious sniff. ‘Not unless you want me to throw up in the bath. What’s that last one?’

‘Sandalwood.’

‘Chuck it in, that’ll do.’

Naboo giggles as the bubbles billow up into a creamy mound and the perfume fills the room. ‘I bet Harrison still sniffs an’ makes comments. We’re gonna smell the same…’

‘I’ll take the risk.’ Saboo tests the water, and turns the tap off.

They hesitate a moment, then turn away from each other and strip.

Getting in is awkward, but only for a moment; Naboo clambers in at one end of the tub, and Saboo looks away until he’s certain the little shaman is well settled under the bubbles.

‘Good thing the taps are in the middle.’ Saboo slides in at the other end, carefully not looking at Naboo although he’s certain Naboo is equally carefully not watching.

Well. This is a bit weird, but in a good way. And it’s gloriously warm. Saboo feels himself relaxing; he stretches out, moving his feet to the side when they make contact with Naboo’s… whatever it was they just made contact with.

He piles more bubbles on top of himself, to be on the safe side, before looking up. ‘You all right there, little one?’

Naboo is looking studiously at the ornate gilded tracery on the ceiling. ‘Fine.’ The corner of his mouth twitches. ‘An’ I’m not lyin’ to you this time… How’re you doin’?’

‘Much better, thanks. My head’s cleared. Could even think about eating, if we were anywhere that had decent food.’

‘Maybe there’ll be some bread or something. An’ if not… we’ll just have to do what we mighty shamen always do when the caterin’s rubbish.’

‘Get pissed, and make the best of it?’

‘Yep. Usually works for me. An’ I know the manuals don’t recommend alcohol right on top of life-threatening poisonin’, but I reckon you’ll be OK. Prob’ly.’

‘With you to look after me, how could I not be?’

Naboo turns his attention from the ceiling to Saboo. ‘Don’t mock. I do my best.’

‘I know you do, and I wasn’t. Well… not really.’

‘Just… oh, shut up.’ Naboo throws a wet flannel at him.

Saboo does as he’s told, and attempts to wash his hair with the rather over-complicated spray nozzle attached to the tap. He winces, and bites back a curse.

‘You need some help there?’

‘Well, I…’ Saboo swallows his pride. ‘I could do with it, actually. Can’t reach round the back, my arms have stiffened up.’

‘Not surprised. It was a long way to swim. Give that here, then. And shut your eyes.’

The warm water cascading over Saboo’s scalp is soothing; the small hands massaging soap into his hair still more so. He stays still, eyes closed, not wanting to do or say anything that might interrupt. He’s never felt so… cared for? Surely that can’t be what it is. This is only what the hairdresser does. A practical service, nothing more. But pleasant none the less…

‘There you go, I think the grit’s all gone.’ Naboo pulls a lock between his fingers. ‘Squeaky-clean. You can open your eyes now.’

‘I… umm… thank you.’ Saboo isn’t quite sure where to look. He surreptitiously glances down to make sure the bubbles are still in place. Good. Nothing is showing that shouldn’t be.

‘You gonna let me check out that injury?’ Naboo reaches under the water and feels for Saboo’s left ankle, without waiting for an answer. He lifts it clear of the bubbles and peers at it. ‘Think it’ll be fine now – it’s quite clean. Only slightly green, look.’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘Suit yourself. Stick a plaster over it when it’s dry, it should be closed by morning. No sign of any swelling…’ Naboo’s hands are sure and gentle and Saboo finds himself wondering how it would feel if they… No. That’s not an appropriate thought to be having half an hour before a formal royal dinner.

‘Is there, erm, anything I can do for you?’ Saboo asks, scooping yet more bubbles over himself. ‘I mean in a practical way, of course.’

‘Well…’ Naboo looks down shyly. ‘Hairwash’d be nice.’

He wriggles round so he’s sitting with his back to Saboo, between his knees.

He’s so _thin_. It was so easy just to pick him up and carry him into the lake. Either he doesn’t eat properly, or it’s the drugs, or… Saboo finds himself thinking of Naboo’s story of his Ordeal, that desperate little worm crawling through the mud because that was the only thing to do, needing to be rescued but knowing he wasn’t permitted to ask.

Saboo understands now, understands exactly why Dennis was prepared to bend the rules.

‘Well? Are you gonna wash my hair or what?’

‘Sorry. I was… thinking.’ Saboo hastily turns on the water and rinses Naboo’s smooth, fine, jet-black hair in a strictly practical way, then picks up a handful of fragrant bubbles and washes some non-existent dirt from Naboo’s skinny ribcage, acutely aware of every ridge and hollow of the delicate bones rising and falling beneath his hands as the little shaman breathes quietly in and out.

‘S’nice,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘Thanks.’

Saboo takes that as an invitation to continue, although he’s finding it very hard to stay detached, very hard not to enjoy the sensation of wet skin sliding over wet skin…

Oh, who the fuck is he trying to kid? He’s never been so powerfully attracted to anyone in his life.

 _Shit_.

He hopes he can keep it to himself for at least a little while longer. He’ll never live it down once Harrison and the other shamen find out.

And what about when Naboo finds out?

They’ll need to be a whole lot drunker than they are right now, and even then he has no idea how Naboo will react. He’ll probably just shrug and turn away; he might laugh. Or he might be kind and want to stay friends, which would be the hardest of all to bear. Either way this could well be the last time Saboo ever gets to do this, the last time he’ll be able to look at Naboo this way.

He wonders what Naboo sees when he looks at him.

Right on cue, Naboo turns his head and looks at Saboo, not in a way he’s ever looked at him before.

‘So… what were you thinking?’

Saboo has to look away. ‘That the water was getting a bit cold… time we were getting out, I think.’ He laughs nervously. ‘Wouldn’t want to be late for dinner, now, would we?’

‘S’pose not.’ Naboo looks up at the ceiling again, with an expression of vague disappointment. ‘Give us a hand to get out, yeah?’

Saboo climbs out of the tub and reaches a hand down to help Naboo out, not looking, not looking…

The bubbles slide down his smooth skin, over his taut nipples, past where his dark body hair stops short, over the smooth blankness where one would expect –

Saboo wraps him hastily in a big fluffy towel and finds a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. It’s ridiculously huge on Naboo’s tiny frame, but it does at least cover everything.

‘Have you got something to wear to dinner?’ Saboo asks.

‘Think I packed a spare robe somewhere. I’ll go an’ have a look.’ Naboo picks up his discarded clothing and stumbles over to the door, trying not to trip on the hem of the bathrobe. ‘See you in ten minutes, yeah?’

It seems suddenly quiet and empty when he’s gone. The gurgling of the water down the plughole seems too loud, echoing off the marble walls. A single black hair clings to the side of the bath…

Saboo shakes his head in despair at his own folly, and forces his thoughts back to mundane things.

Clean socks, for a start.

He feels better once he’s dressed: more like his normal self. Perhaps this ludicrous weakness is just a side effect of the poisoned bite. Not that he can exactly ask Naboo whether that’s the case.

His hat’s still in the rucksac and only slightly squashed. It doesn’t look too bad, he thinks, squinting into the mirror. But there’s still something missing from his outfit…

The feather boa is lying in a crumpled little heap on the bathroom floor.

It smells of sandalwood, but when Saboo buries his face in it he can pick out Naboo’s distinctive perfume underlying the spicy sweetness of the bath oil.

He deliberately avoids asking himself why it feels so comforting to wrap it around his neck.

He’s got enough to worry about just now. Time to get this blasted dinner over with.

Saboo takes a deep breath and goes to knock on Naboo’s door.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

‘Well, that was a nightmare,’ Saboo slurs. The strains of ‘All Around My Hat’ grow fainter behind them as he and Naboo stagger down the panelled corridor leading from the Great Hall to the tower. ‘An utter, complete nightmare.’

‘We did think it would be. Good job Naan Bread showed up, and there was plenty to drink.’ Naboo hiccups, and wraps his arm a bit tighter around Saboo’s waist. Saboo’s not sure which of them is holding the other up, but it seems to be working so far. ‘At least you didn’t have the King bangin’ on about how he’d like someone to reign with him an’ organise a different folk concert for every day of the year. I thought I’d knocked that one on the head years ago but no, he’s still tryin’. I kept tellin’ him, I’ve got somethin’ on, but he wouldn’t believe me.’

‘That’s because it was a bare-faced lie, then as now. You never have anything on. Anything important, anyway.’

Naboo mumbles something that sounds rather like ‘I do now.’

‘You what?’

‘Never mind. What about you and Banoo? You were gettin’ on like a house on fire over dinner.’

‘As in, generating a lot of hot air.’ Saboo snorts. He’s always found the tall, dark, handsome, athletic, talented, over-zealous shaman rather difficult to like.

‘An’ then he remembered he was supposed to be at his daughter’s birthday party an’ not at the feast at all.’

‘Well, that’s just typical of him, isn’t it? He never did get the hang of managing his work-life balance.’

‘It was a nice touch of yours, generatin’ him a bunch of balloons out of thin air, though.’ Naboo giggles. ‘Pink ones, an’ all. An’ then the King called him Balloon, an’ you choked, an’ I thought it might be a good time to get us out of there before we actually had to eat that chocolate lentil dessert…’

‘Please don’t.’ Saboo swallows hard.

Naboo looks up at him with concern. ‘Sorry… you gonna be sick again?’

‘No,’ Saboo says firmly. ‘At least I hope not. I just…’

‘Let me guess. Lentils are on your list of “things I’ve never liked”.’

‘Right up at the top. Even higher up than you.’

‘Thanks,’ Naboo says, ‘I love you too.’ Then he blushes, and asks hastily: ‘Is it left or right here?’

Saboo pretends he only heard the question. ‘No idea, you’re supposed to be navigating. Shut up and let your shaman-senses guide you.’

‘Left,’ Naboo says decisively.

After a long and not very edifying detour via the kitchens, they emerge at the top of the spiral staircase in the guest wing.

‘About bloody time.’ Saboo unwraps himself from his companion and leans wearily against the doorpost. He’s pretty sure he should do or say something now, but he has no idea what; he's tired, his head is fuzzy with real ale and acoustic guitar chords, and his mellow mood has evaporated.

Naboo stands in his own doorway, fidgeting from one foot to the other but showing no sign of going inside.

‘What?’ Saboo’s tone is sharp. He’s not sure which of them he’s more annoyed with: Naboo, or himself. This isn’t going well. It’s just going. Slipping past him, leaving him drowning in regret…

‘Well, um, you might not want to, after I got you lost ’n’all, sorry about that by the way, an’ it’s been a long day, but, I wondered, what about, might help you sleep, perhaps you'd like to come in for a nightcap?’ Naboo murmurs diffidently.

‘You plum. That is just about the longest and most ridiculous way of saying “Do you want a drink?” that I have heard in my entire life,’ Saboo snaps.

Naboo looks crushed. He turns away to open the door.

It’s now or never.

Saboo steps across the corridor and lays a hand on his companion's arm.

‘I’m sorry. I meant, yes. Please.’

The little shaman’s face brightens. ‘Alright then.’ He pushes the door wide open, and Saboo follows him in and closes it behind them.

Saboo’s heart is pounding.

Ridiculous to be so nervous about a simple drink with a colleague, but it’s quite cold in here and they’ve had quite a lot to drink already…

‘Ah. Naboo? I just need to…’

‘Go ahead. I’ll find you a drink.’ Naboo bends down and rifles through the extensive royal minibar, making rather more noise than he needs to.

When Saboo emerges from the bathroom, his erstwhile field partner is grinning broadly. ‘This place is so cool. They’ve got all sorts of Earth stuff, look…’

He has a bottle of chartreuse in one hand and one of crème de menthe in the other.

‘Don’t you _dare_.’ Saboo flings himself into the armchair by the hearth, where a small clear fire is now burning.

‘Sorry, bit tactless. Couldn’t resist it though.... What do you want to drink?’

‘Anything,’ Saboo growls, ‘so long as it’s (a) alcoholic and (b) not fucking well _green_.’

He hears Naboo chuckle behind him, then the gurgle of sticky liquid being poured from a bottle.

The small glass that is pressed into his hand contains something deep purple-brown and fragrant.

‘What’s this?’

‘Plum brandy,’ Naboo says, deadpan.

Saboo laughs out loud for the first time that day.

Naboo smiles at him. ‘Couldn’t resist that either. Hey, an’ it tastes quite good an’ all… Mind if I smoke?’

‘Go ahead.’ Saboo stretches luxuriously in the warmth of the fire. The brandy is rich and mellow, tasting of summer fruit, soothing his doubts and fears. Things seem to be going better all of a sudden.

Naboo fetches his beloved hash pipe, lights up, sits down on the plush velvet footstool at Saboo’s feet and draws deep. ‘Ahhh. Bloody ’ell, I needed that. Haven’t been high all day. Cheers.’

He breathes out a cloud of blue smoke; looks up, and sees Saboo watching him. ‘You want some?’ He proffers the mouthpiece. ‘It’s a good blend.’

‘Sure, why not?’ As the pipe changes hands, their fingers touch. Saboo feels a sudden shock of wanting; he wonders whether Naboo feels it too.

He can feel Naboo relaxing; leaning on him a little more.

It is indeed a good blend. In a little while all the colours grow more intense, the edges of everything softened as though looking through gauze. Rich scents waft through the warm room: woodsmoke, hempsmoke, the sandalwood of their shared bath.

‘What happened to that git from the Academy?’ Saboo asks suddenly, handing back the pipe.

‘Which one? There are loads.’ Naboo takes a long, lazy pull on the mouthpiece, the smoke gurgling contentedly in the belly of the hookah.

‘Your worst enemy. The one who cursed you so you couldn’t swim. Did you get him back, after you qualified?’

‘It’s another long story.’ Naboo blows a smoke ring at the ceiling. ‘Short version is: Didn’t need to. Stupid ballbag insisted on taking his Tests in the next round. Failed the lot and got kicked out.’

‘No re-sits if you refer yourself for Testing. That’s what put me off doing it. Had to wait another two years after I thought I was ready, before they called me.’ Saboo reaches down for the pipe. ‘It’s all a long time ago… Where is he now?’

‘Dunno exactly. He left the planet, went to work for a trading corporation I think. Don’t really care, to be honest. Like you said, it’s all a long time ago.’

Naboo sighs. Saboo rests a hand on his shoulder; kneads at a knot in the muscles.

‘I know who your worst enemy is,’ Naboo says dreamily.

‘No, you don’t. Nobody does. I’m not even sure I do. I have a lot of enemies, you know.’

‘You’re your own worst enemy.’

Saboo takes his hand away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yeah, you are.’ Naboo sits up and looks Saboo in the face, suddenly earnest. ‘You could be happy but you won’t let yourself. You could be a good person if you didn’t try so hard to be a bastard.’

‘I’m not a good person.’

‘Are too. You were good to me today.’

‘We had a job to do. It’s called being professional.’

Naboo snorts. ‘Yeah right. You threw me onto the carpet first. A _proper_ bastard would’ve got himself on the carpet and pulled me up after him, left me to get bitten. Good fing you didn’t though, you wouldn’t’ve been able to fix me.’

‘We had the Amulet. I would have thought of that… probably.’

‘Yeah, but would you’ve cried, if you thought I was dyin’? Would you’ve let yourself?’

‘Is that what…’ Of course. That one cold drop, falling… Saboo’s heart misses a beat.

Naboo stares into the fire. ‘Handy gadget, that Amulet.’ He could be talking about the weather now, he sounds so casual. ‘It turns tears into a universal antidote.’

‘But only if they’re genuine,’ Saboo says slowly.

‘An’ they _were_.’ Naboo lays his head on Saboo’s knees. ‘I’d’ve missed you, if you’d gone.’

Saboo laughs quietly, sure of his ground now, and runs his fingers through Naboo’s hair, savouring its silky texture. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

‘OK then… I’ve never come from havin’ sex.’

Well, that was unexpected. And he sounds so sad; as though there’s a story there that he isn’t quite ready to tell yet.

Saboo takes a deep breath. It’s time to start coming clean.

‘Well, you’re one up on me there. I’ve never even _had_ sex.’

Naboo looks up in surprise. ‘No? Wouldn’t have thought you’d have any trouble pullin’.’

Saboo shakes his head. ‘Never needed it. Never really wanted it. It’s always struck me as just too much hassle...’

Naboo makes a small unhappy sound, and turns his head away.

‘Until today,’ Saboo says quietly.

He cups a hand under Naboo’s chin, lifts his face, and looks deep into his eyes; what he sees there makes his heart miss several more beats.

Naboo’s smile lights up the room. ‘Remind me to let you save me from drownin' more often.’

Perhaps, Saboo thinks, accepting this mission wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Perhaps, he thinks, Dennis is a whole lot smarter than we give him credit for.

And then Naboo’s soft mouth is on his, and he stops thinking altogether for a while.


	4. In which we find out why Saboo only sees his mother once a year, and whether Naboo is wearing his robes in the traditional manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two shamen carry on chatting. They are both sitting in the same armchair by now...

There’s a bit of scrambling and fidgeting before Naboo works out how to fit himself perfectly into Saboo’s lap, with his head tucked under Saboo’s chin and the ends of the feather boa tickling his cheek. 

This is where he needs to be, how he has often dreamed of being: safe and warm with Saboo’s arms around him, his shaman-senses attuning themselves to the rhythm of Saboo’s heartbeat and breathing, the scent of his skin.

He sighs happily. He can’t quite believe that he’s allowed to be here, that he isn’t going to be pushed away. All those years of being told he wasn’t even liked…

His lips still tingle from their kiss; he can taste brandy and smoke and Saboo himself, and he wants more, a whole lot more. Arousal is already building inside him, slow and certain, an almost-ache in his groin, making his whole body warm and heavy with need.

He’ll have to take this slowly though, give Saboo time to get used to the whole idea. It’s clearly been a bit of a shock and he can almost hear the rumble and scrape of the other shaman’s mental furniture being rearranged wholesale as he re-assesses his basic principles.

‘Little one…’ Saboo rests his cheek on Naboo’s hair, and speaks with a softness Naboo has rarely heard from him. ‘You know when you said, you’d never… What happened to you?’

Naboo shakes his head. ‘Don’t ask.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, I just… I thought it might help.’

‘’S’alright.’ It would help, it would help Naboo a lot, but he doesn’t think it would help Saboo at all, to have all that dumped on him. It’s not going to be easy, this process of getting close to someone who’s never let himself be close to anyone, who’s never even had a familiar... ‘Tell you one day. Not ready to go back there yet, is all. It was a bad time, an’ if it hadn’t been for Dennis…’

‘I always wondered whether he had an eye to you himself, you know.’

‘No, it’s not like that.’ Naboo tries hard to find the right words to explain. ‘Dennis is… well… kind of like the father that I never had. He might’ve wanted… once or twice… but he never pushed it. I always thought he should have kids of his own. Maybe he will, now he’s married.’

Saboo quivers with laughter. ‘I can just picture it, can’t you? The D-Man coping with babies…’

‘Like he copes with the Board. Badly. Although knowing him, he'd manage to find a way to get high on pureed pears or talcum powder.’ Naboo settles himself more comfortably against Saboo’s shoulder. ‘Not that I know anythin’ about how families work. I never had one.’

‘According to my father, you didn’t miss much. He always said they were over-rated. He was totally smitten by my mother, but I think he could have done without me. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, you know? We never really liked each other.’

‘Is he still around?’ Naboo is fascinated by the idea that Saboo might actually have a family, however dysfunctional: a proper family with relatives in it, not just random acquaintances and a familiar.

‘No, he was human, with a human lifespan. And he was old-fashioned, wouldn’t drink from the Fountain of Youth, said it was unnatural and one lifetime should be enough. And then when he started getting old, and changed his mind, he panicked and took too much, and it regressed him to oblivion… Mother couldn’t forgive him. Five hundred years on, and she still hasn’t.’

‘Is she…’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to take you to meet her.’ Saboo gives a short, mirthless laugh. ‘None of us would enjoy that experience. She lost her mind when Father died. Well, when I say lost… she seems to have deliberately kept all the parts that would make her a miserable poisonous old bat, and ditched the rest. She’s in a secure geriatric unit on Twilight Island, and I see her once a year or less often if I can get away with it. She doesn’t really know who I am any more, but she likes to wind me up just the same…’ Saboo heaves a deep sigh, with a catch in it that might be tears. ‘She was beautiful, once.’

Naboo thinks about various things he could say, and then decides that none of them will make things any better, so he doesn’t reply, just burrows closer into Saboo’s embrace and closes his eyes.

He can feel Saboo stroking his hair, perhaps finding it comforting. The room is quiet save for the rustlings of the dying fire, and their own breathing.

A shaman could fall asleep like this… Naboo smothers a yawn.

Saboo stills his hand. ‘I should go.’

He doesn’t sound as though he means it. Humans are so hard to read, they have no telepathic talent. Naboo takes a gamble. ‘It’s up to you. But I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘You mean that?’ Saboo sounds so glad, so genuinely glad; surely Naboo’s shaman-senses can’t be mistaken. He wishes there were time to make a cup of tea, check the leaves. But it looks like he’ll have to fly blind on this one.

‘Course I mean it. You did say… I mean… that _is_ what you meant, isn’t it? You did mean me? Cos I’ll feel a right numpty if you were talkin’ about wantin’ it with that tit Banoo…’

‘Little one,’ Saboo says warningly, ‘stop digging. He’s a married man, for starters. And for another thing, he is not only a tit, he’s an idiot, and idiots are right next to lentils on my list.’ He slides Naboo off his lap onto the floor. ‘And another thing…’

‘What?’ Naboo is grinning like an idiot himself with relief at the unmistakable amusement creeping into Saboo’s gravelly voice.

‘I _was_ talking about you. And I may never have had sex, but I do know it involves taking your clothes off. So that’s what I’m proposing to do, and I suggest you offer no resistance.’

‘No resistance, just assistance?’

‘You’re rubbish at poetry. But something like that, yes.’

Naboo takes his turban off and puts it on the gilded footstool. ‘There you go. You can do the rest yourself, it’ll be more fun.’ He stands up, fingering the chain around his neck. ‘Start with this, maybe.’

Saboo lifts the Amulet carefully off. ‘Does it need to go in a box or something? Or be covered, or not in contact with the ground, or…’

‘What’ve you bin readin’ lately? This ain’t Harry Potter. Just put it on the table, it’ll be fine. Wouldn’t hurt to lock the door though, I s’pose.’

Saboo looks dubiously at the Amulet as he lays it on the table.

Naboo chuckles. ‘Yeah, I feel like that about it too sometimes. I mean, it’s powerful an’ all, but it’s been a drag havin’ to live off-planet for three centuries. Last few years have been OK, but before that it was… well, it was pretty lonely sometimes.’

‘Until Dennis took over and appointed you to the Board.’ Saboo goes over to the door and slides the bolt home with a satisfying thud.

‘That too, but I was thinkin’ more of friends.’

‘As in, not having any?’

‘Exactly. Present company excepted, humans never really got me, an’ I didn’t get them, but then I went to work at the zoo because I thought it’d be somethin’ a bit different, an’ it was, but not how I expected.’

Saboo comes back to stand beside him. ‘You found your familiar there.’

‘And Howard and Vince.’

‘I’ve never understood what you saw in them. They’re a pair of total doss-bags.’

Naboo nods. ‘I know. I’ve never understood what I saw in them either, but somehow it didn’t matter. They’re so weird themselves, they never really saw me as weird, they just accepted me. An’ it was good to be needed… I just sort of slipped into bein’ there to sort out whatever mess they’d got into, an’ somehow from that we started bein’ sort of friends. Even a sort of family, I guess… But listen, you’re not ’ere to talk about my social life, you’re supposed to be takin’ my clothes off.’

‘Very well.’ Saboo looks at him for a moment; squares his shoulders resolutely. Then lifts Naboo’s robes off over his head.

And explodes with laughter.

‘You weren’t wearing any… You… All through that formal dinner, you were sitting there, right next to me, and you weren’t…’

‘I don’t get out much,’ Naboo says, lowering his eyes in pretend bashfulness. ‘Have to make my own entertainment. An’ I admit, thinkin’ about seein’ you react exactly like that… well, it was well entertainin’ an’ it got me through havin’ to eat those falafels, otherwise I’d’ve bin a goner…’

And then they are both laughing, and Naboo says a word that causes all of Saboo’s clothing to Dis-apparate from off his body and reappear neatly folded on the chair, with his feathered hat on top of the pile.

Sometimes a touch of Harry Potter is exactly what you need.


	5. In which we and Saboo find out about Naboo's alien anatomy, and nobody is put off by it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, fluffy smut.

Naboo looks from Saboo’s feathered hat to its owner, and is suddenly speechless. 

Oh, that long, lean body, with its sleek muscles and gleaming caramel skin. It took his breath away on the lakeside, despite his terror at the thought of the black water waiting to swallow him. It takes his breath away all over again.

‘You can touch as well, you know. And it’s rude to stare.’ Saboo is smiling.

He’s tall, and beautiful, and very male, and very – big…

This isn’t going to be easy.

Well – it’s now or never. And never’s a long time. Naboo takes a step closer; reaches out.

Saboo’s breath whistles through his nostrils. He stands quite still, waiting.

The first touch of Naboo’s fingertips makes him tremble; Naboo’s palm flattening against his chest makes him hard. And Naboo’s belly pressing against the heat of his erection makes them both whimper with longing.

Ridiculous little noises… Their eyes meet, and they smile.

Then there are hands everywhere, and skin brushing against skin, and Saboo bends his head to take Naboo’s mouth in a searing kiss, not soft and hesitant this time but eager and needy and just a little bit afraid.

Naboo can’t resist slipping his tongue in, and it’s heavenly until Saboo breaks away and takes a step back, his chest heaving. ‘I’m – just hang on a minute…’

‘Steady.’ Naboo grips Saboo’s shaking hand. ‘Take it easy, we can go as slow as you like.’

‘I don’t _want_ to go slow.’ Saboo pulls him close again.

‘Fair enough.’ Naboo can hear Saboo’s heart hammering. ‘Five hundred years is a long time with no sex.’

‘You have no idea how long, little one.’ Saboo runs his fingers through Naboo’s hair; caresses the curve of his throat. His touch makes something melt deep inside.

‘Well, come on then, why’re we still standin’ here discussin’ it when there’s a four-poster bed three steps away?’

‘Good point.’ Saboo takes those three steps and strips the covers back, revealing an enticing expanse of beautifully laundered white linen sheet. He makes a mock-ceremonial bow. ‘After you…’

‘Oh – hang on a sec, just thought of somethin’.’ Naboo scuttles off towards the bathroom.

‘That might be a good idea, actually.’

‘No, I didn’t mean I – well, you might, but – I just went to fetch this.’ Naboo grabs a dry towel from the rail and brings it back.

‘What’s that for?’

‘Don’t look so worried,’ Naboo calls as Saboo disappears behind the bathroom door. ‘ ’S just a precaution.’

The towel is soft and heavy and lavender-scented; Naboo spreads it carefully over the sheet before lying down on it. His heart is in his throat; it hasn’t been five hundred years but it’s certainly been a long time for him too.

He shuts his eyes.

‘Oi, don’t go to sleep.’ A soft kiss is pressed to his cheek.

Naboo looks up, and grins. ‘I wasn’t. Just conservin’ my shamanic energies during all available quiet moments, like it says in the Everyshaman’s Manual of Field Practices.’

‘It doesn’t say anything in the Manual about having sex with your field partner in a four-poster bed, though, does it?’ Saboo draws three of the four-poster’s damask curtains, leaving the one facing the fire.

He climbs onto the bed beside Naboo, and kneels over him in the half-dark.

‘So I suppose we’ll have to improvise,’ he whispers. He’s kneeling between Naboo’s spread legs now; he leans down, his elbows on either side of Naboo’s face and his erection brushing Naboo’s thigh.

A sudden memory flashes across Naboo’s shaman-senses: hot foul breath, a heavy body pinning him down, the sharp smell of blood, and eyes all around, watching…

He wonders whether he’ll be able to go through with this, whether the fear will be stronger than the wanting.

Right now, all he can feel is the fear. He swallows hard against the lump rising in his throat. Saboo is so beautiful, and they were getting on so well, and he’d thought this was going to be all right, but it isn’t, he can’t, he’s alone again and the darkness is dragging him down to the bottom…

‘Little one?’ Saboo kneels upright again; touches his fingertips gently to Naboo’s face. ‘What’s wrong, did I do something wrong?’

Naboo shakes his head, biting his lip as a tear of desperate disappointment runs down his cheek.

‘Do you want me to go?’ Saboo sounds as though his heart is breaking.

All Naboo can manage is a thin wail. ‘No.’

Saboo lies down beside him and takes his hand. ‘Then I won’t.’ His warm fingers curl around Naboo’s cold ones. ‘Hold on, and trust me. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Fanks…’ A sob shakes Naboo’s body.

‘No, you tit, don’t cry, that’s not going to help anybody.’

The affection in Saboo’s voice is unmistakable. Perhaps it’s not all over, after all. Naboo sniffs and blinks until the tears are under control.

‘That’s better.’ Saboo presses soft kisses to Naboo’s bare shoulder. ‘Now. Let’s see whether we can’t make some sense out of this.’ He drums with the fingertips of his free hand, thinking. ‘Something bad happened to you, and this is bringing it back. So we need to change what we’re doing… I think I’ve got it.’

‘What?’

‘Just – don’t laugh if I’m way off the mark. Remember I haven’t done this before and I’m not a great one for reading textbooks. But… is it possible to… to have sex the other way up? I mean, with you not trapped underneath? Because I think – I don’t know, tell me if I’m wrong – but I think you need to be in control here.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ Oh, the relief, the utter joy of being understood and accepted and still wanted… Naboo winds both hands into Saboo’s hair and kisses him, eager, gasping, wanting that hot mouth on his body, over his belly, under his arms, everywhere.

And Saboo understands this too, and gives Naboo what he wants, kissing his way down until he’s between Naboo’s parted thighs...

Where he stops short, and looks up in surprise. ‘You’re all wet… You’re a _girl_.’

Naboo sits up, snorting with laughter. ‘Am _not_ , ya cheeky ballbag.’

‘But –’

‘I’m as male as you, it’s just arranged differently is all – feel this, in here, these are the same as you’ve got out there.’ Naboo takes Saboo’s hand and guides two fingers inside, gliding easily through the wetness.

‘These right here?’

‘Yup. Same as these right here.’ Naboo cups his free hand around Saboo’s balls, weighing them in his palm, heavy and cool and so exposed, so vulnerable… He feels Saboo’s fingertips exploring, careful and hesitant; watches Saboo’s face as he begins to understand how this might work.

Saboo slides his fingers further in. ‘And the rest?’

‘Up here.’ Almost too far in for his own small fingers to reach, but Saboo has no trouble. Naboo strokes the silky-soft skin at Saboo’s tip, mirroring the movements. ‘See? Unmales were never meant to fly solo.’

‘So when you told Dennis you didn’t do anything…’

‘I didn’t, much. There are… y’know, gadgets and things, but they never really… Guess I got lucky.’

‘Makes two of us, little one.’ Saboo runs a finger round the rim of the opening. ‘What – what do you need me to do?’

‘More of that would be nice… help me make some room, you know?’

Saboo shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. Don’t laugh.’

‘I’m not. But it’s… You’re pretty well hung, if you didn’t know already, an’ it’s gonna be a tight fit. Just keep doin’ that, help me relax, an’ when you can get three fingers in, you know I’m ready for you.’

‘I’d rather… find some other way, if this is going to hurt you.’ Saboo looks doubtful.

‘Don’t worry.’ Naboo leans forward and kisses him. ‘I’ll be fine. But it’s worth bein’ a bit careful. ’S your first time, an’ mine too really, so I wanna get it right. You’re doin’ great so far.’

He lies back on the pillows, encouraging Saboo with soft words, and Saboo touches and stretches, until Naboo’s open to him, wet and needy and pushing back against Saboo’s fingers with little moans of pleasure.

Saboo bends over and kisses him on the cheek. ‘I’ve… that is, there are three…so can we…? Because I think I’m going to explode if we don’t.’

‘Me too.’

‘So what do I…?’

Naboo sits up, grinning at the sight of Saboo’s hand disappearing between his thighs. ‘Take ’em out slowly, and lie down where I was… yeah, that’s perfect.’

He kneels astride Saboo’s hips, and reaches back to help him in.

Blimey.

‘Well hung’ doesn’t really cover it. Especially since nothing is hanging any more, it’s all standing to attention and even that vulnerable ballsack has tightened itself up into a neat, plump package. Naboo’s been well prepared, but even so he needs all his concentration to unlock the tight muscles around his entrance and let Saboo’s broad, blunt cockhead slide slowly inside.

‘Oh.’ Saboo moves his head from side to side on the pillow. ‘Little one… I never expected… this is just… Oh.’

Naboo rocks his hips, taking his lover (now that’s a word that’ll take a bit of getting used to, and all) deeper in. ‘Take it easy. It’s been a long time. Lemme know if you need to stop.’

‘I’m fine if you are. But is this hurting you?’

‘It isn’t. It really isn’t. Nor scarin’ me neither. So stop worryin’, just lie back an’ enjoy the ride, yeah?’

Naboo sets a slow rhythm, looking into Saboo’s eyes as they widen and darken and lose their anxiety; feeling his own body relaxing as it accepts the ache and the stretch and the certainty that this time, nothing bad is going to happen.

He could stop this at any moment; but he doesn’t want to. Saboo’s ball-deep inside him now, and Naboo tightens his internal muscles to feel the shape of him, bumping deliciously against the tender places that Saboo’s fingers had explored earlier.

Saboo is rock-hard and hot; Naboo’s movements make him shudder all over. ‘I can’t take much more… Little one, if you do _that_ again I’ll come…’

Naboo had no idea it was possible to be so turned on by just words.

He does _that_ again. He can't help it.

‘I meant what I said, you plum, I can’t… Oh fuck, I’m coming. Oh…’

Naboo feels Saboo let go; sees his face as the orgasm hits him and flattens all his remaining defences. It's the sexiest thing he's ever seen, and it tips him over the edge too, gasping and yelping and crying out Saboo’s name.

Afterwards, Saboo holds him close as he shivers and cries.

‘I’m fine, really, I’m sorry, it’s only reaction, never come like that before…’

‘It’s all right, little one. It was... pretty intense for me too, you know.' Saboo kisses him gently on the forehead. 'Just be still for a little while. I’ll look after you.’

Naboo can feel the wet flowing out of him, the mingled aftermath of their sex, smelling of his own musk and that human malesex scent that has become a familiar feature of life in his flat ever since Howard and Vince started doing… whatever it is that he and Saboo have just done.

What have they done?

‘The towel was a good idea,’ Saboo says, lifting a corner of it to wipe him clean.

‘And this? Me an’ you, I mean… was it a good idea?’ The moment the question is out of his mouth, Naboo wishes he hadn’t asked; he can’t bear the thought that Saboo might regret this.

Saboo kisses the tears away. ‘Of course it was. Best we’ve ever had.’

‘ _We_?’ Naboo can hardly dare to believe it.

‘It’s you and me from here on in, little one.’ Saboo’s tone brooks no argument. ‘You and me. That’s all there is to it.’


	6. In which we find out what the King's secret dream is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't quite all there was to it. There was this as well.

‘You again? I’d have thought catching me on my way to breakfast was enough. And then you told me you had to get home by 8.30, and rushed off again. Something about your son’s school assembly, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, Sire. I was in plenty of time to attend the assembly – ’

‘Well, I’m glad to see that new watch of yours is working.’

‘– and I have returned with all haste to tender my humblest apologies to you.’

‘What, again?’

‘I do not think I have yet apologised nearly enough. My early departure last night was unforgivable.’

‘Be that as it may, I forgive you, Banoo, as is my royal privilege.’

‘But – ’

The King lowers his binoculars and looks sharply at the shaman kneeling at his feet. ‘Nothing is unforgivable, Banoo, if the King says that it is not.’

Banoo bows his head and is silent for all of about ten seconds as he tries to work this out. His chest is heaving with suppressed emotion; his normally sleek hair is disarrayed, sliding out of the knot at the nape of his neck. The King feels a sudden, irrational urge to kneel beside him and tidy it up.

‘I am forgiven?’ Banoo says in a small voice.

‘For about the forty-seventh time this morning, Banoo, yes. Now for heaven’s sake get up before you give yourself arthritis kneeling on these battlements. It’s perishing cold up here.’

‘Thank you, sire.’ Banoo scrambles to his feet. ‘I am undeserving of such benevolence. I – ’

‘Peace, Banoo.’ The King raises the Royal Binoculars to his eyes again and peers over the wall. ‘You were not the only one to leave the feast early. The Head Shaman’s envoys had to retire only a few minutes after you did. Pity really, I thought it was all going rather well, but I suppose they had had a rather busy day.’

Banoo shades his eyes against the mid-morning sun and looks in the same direction; together they watch the Head Shaman’s diplomatic carpet flying away over the plain.

‘They must have needed their sleep too,’ the King adds, ‘they were very late to breakfast. Missed out on the buckwheat porridge. Can’t understand it…’

A faint burst of laughter drifts back to them on the wind as the carpet rises and heads for the mountains, rather erratically.

‘Perhaps they over-indulged in the products of the Royal Breweries last night, Sire,’ Banoo suggests. ‘It doesn’t look as though either of them is fit to drive.’

The King, watching through the binoculars, can see that actually neither of the shamen on the carpet is driving; their attention seems wholly occupied by each other. Well, that would explain a lot…

‘I’m seriously thinking about asking the Head Shaman to billet his field operatives elsewhere in future.’ He lowers the binoculars; he didn’t need to see _that_. ‘I’ve already had the Laundry Master complaining about the state of the towels this morning. He was almost in tears, the poor man. I can’t think what those shamen can have been doing.’

Well, actually, that last statement isn’t strictly true; and judging by what he’s just seen, it looks as though they’ll be doing it again before very long. Hopefully the Head Shaman's carpet valet is of a robust constitution...

The King sighs heavily.

‘Is something wrong, my liege?’ Banoo strikes an earnest, ready-for-action pose. ‘Can I do anything to remedy it? I have kept myself in training, just in case. I am still the strongest, the fastest…’

‘Thank you, but no, nothing of that kind is wrong. It’s just… well… things didn’t turn out as I expected. I should have been a folk musician with a thriving wholefood restaurant, not a lonely old man ruling a kingdom he never asked for.’

He looks out across the majestic view of the rolling plains and the distant glitter of the river, with the mountains rising blue in the distance. He blinks; the brightness of the morning sun is making his eyes water a little.

He hears Banoo come to stand beside him.

‘Things didn’t turn out for me either,’ the shaman says quietly. ‘I should have been the amulet bearer and being all heroic on Earth, making full use of my training and magical abilities – not rushing around after six children that my fourth ex-wife can’t look after properly.’

‘You're a fortunate man, Banoo. I always wanted a partner, and it’d really brighten this moth-eaten castle up to have some youngsters about the place, but that didn’t work out either… d’you have any idea how hard it is to find a princess these days?’

They turn to each other, and their eyes meet.

‘No promises,’ the King says, ‘but… why don’t you bring the kids over next weekend, and we’ll see how it goes?’

Banoo says nothing, but his face grows bright with sudden hope.

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ the King murmurs.

He puts a hand on Banoo’s shoulder, and together they watch the carpet vanish over the horizon.


End file.
